Prologue: Complete and Sane
by SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: A sort of backstory/prologue for a future story I'm going to post titled "Complete and Sane"


_This story was started a while ago as a backstory for Spencer, one that I was only going to write for my own personal use to help me keep his backstory straight in my mind as I wrote a different one. But a friend or two convinced me to go ahead and post this as a sort of Prologue. I hope you like it. Also, a quick note here for those who don't know: I mention a drink called Ensure in here. Ensure is the brand name of a liquid nutritional supplement line that's often used to provide a source of nutrition in connection with aging, recovery from illness, injury or surgery, and managing physical and mental conditions that cause an inability or refusal to eat, appetite loss, or overall weight loss._

* * *

He was going crazy. That was the only thing that made sense. Fifteen year old Spencer Reid curled up in his bed in his small little off campus apartment and fought not to be sick. He was beyond grateful that they'd placed him out in the off campus apartments this year instead of in the dorms. Though a minor, there were certain concessions that were made for him while at college. This apartment was one of them. After all the harassment and hazing he'd gone through last year in the dorms, they'd wanted to do something different this year. So, with parental permission that he'd forged and under the condition that he check in each evening with the staff, he was given this off campus apartment that was still technically connected to the college. Caltech owned these apartments; they were just off site.

He was grateful for it right now. Being around people was the very last thing he wanted to do. He felt miserable. For the past week, the strangest things had been happening to him. It had him terrified. He knew mental illness very well; he ought to, having lived with a mentally ill mother for years. All he could think was that he was going insane. For a week now he had been seeing things and feeling things that weren't there. Things that _couldn't_ be there. Spencer swore that he had actually felt it when one of the guys had shot him a furious look the other day. Like an actual, physical pain in his head. Then later, when he'd been walking down the hall, he'd happened to look up at someone and suddenly he was seeing things. He was seeing a young man at home with another man standing over him, striking him over and over with a belt. The image had lasted only a moment but it had left him horribly ill. He'd had to race to the nearest bathroom to empty his stomach and had ended up having to call in sick to his afternoon class. He'd spent the rest of the day sick and with a headache.

What was happening to him? What was going on? These image things, these painful feelings, they were happening all over the place. He could look at people and just see these things around them. Something had to be wrong with him!

A knock sounded at Spencer's front door, jerking him out of his painful thoughts. He gathered what little energy he had and pushed himself up off his bed. It was tempting not to answer the door. God, he wanted to ignore it. He wanted to curl up and try and get some sleep that wasn't haunted by horrible images and crazy things. But he had been raised too well. There was no way he could ignore the door. He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down and made his way out to the front room. What he found when he opened the door was a definite surprise. A beautiful blond haired woman in a light blue business suit was standing there with a smile on her face. Behind her stood two men in suits; men that looked almost like bodyguards.

"Hello." She greeted him in a sweet, musical voice. "Are you Spencer Reid?"

Spencer unconsciously straightened himself up a little. "Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, good! You're just the man I was looking for. May we come in?"

Somehow Spencer found himself letting them in. It went against everything he knew and everything he'd ever been taught. Yet here they were, sitting around his kitchen table, and he was serving them all coffee. The woman looked so out of place in this tiny little kitchen. Long, pale legs were crossed at the knee, revealing just a teasing hint of thigh that would've set any teenage boy at attention. Yet, completely contradictory to that, there was a feeling of strong unease inside of him and a sensation that whispered _Trouble_. Spencer was too busy trying to control those stray feelings of arousal that flared up to really notice the other feelings. Later, he would regret that. He would regret ignoring those feelings. Maybe they could've saved him.

The coffee was served finally and Spencer took his seat across from the woman. She curled her hands around the mug and leaned her arms on the table while bright green eyes met his. "Do you know who I am?"

"No, ma'am." Spencer said honestly. He'd never seen her before.

"My name is Alisa. Alisa Parker. And what I am is a woman that helps out young mutants. Mutants like you, Spencer."

Her words had him staring. Wait, what? What was she talking about? "Mutant?"

"Yes. Didn't you realize what was happening to you?"

He didn't want to admit that he hadn't. He didn't want to tell her that he'd thought he was going crazy like his mother. Spencer clutched at his own mug and lifted it to his lips to give himself time to think. A mutant? He was a mutant? On the one hand, there was a great sense of relief that filled him. _I'm not crazy!_ On the other, a whole new worry was hitting. If he was a mutant, that meant that these emotions and images were real. What he saw was real. And they weren't going to go away. He was going to have to figure out some kind of control. There was no way in hell he could live a life like this. All of that could be thought about later, though. He focused on what was right in front of him at the moment. "How did you know?"

Alisa's smile grew a little. "I have someone in my employ who can sense new mutants and their powers. He told me about you and I hurried over."

"Why?"

"To help you."

Something felt wrong about this. Something felt very, very wrong. What it was, he wasn't sure. But in his distraction at her words, he'd stopped pushing everything back so hard and that wrong feeling came right to the forefront. An instinct he didn't even know he had was telling him to get her out of the house, now. Spencer reacted on that instinct, speaking before he could think about his words. "I'm sorry, but no thank you. I'm not interested."

She looked surprised by his words. Those carefully sculpted eyebrows rose, giving her delicate face a sweetly confused look. "You haven't even heard what I have to offer."

The wrong feeling was still there. It was growing more and more with each word. Spencer shivered underneath it and fought not to be sick once more. His hands clenched briefly around his mug. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm just not interested."

"Is there nothing I can say to persuade you?" She batted her eyes at him and the charm in her smile grew just a little more. This was a woman who was used to getting her way.

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry." Politely, he rose to his feet, and she rose with him. Spencer folded his hands nervously in front of himself and tried not to fidget under her stare. The air around him felt so strange and uncomfortable. Something felt so very wrong here. He needed to get her out of here. He didn't know why, just that he had to. "Thank you very much for stopping by, though. I appreciate the offer."

She watched him for a moment before shaking her head. "Oh, my darling boy. I wanted to do this the easy way. Remember that. I didn't want to have to do things this way."

All of a sudden hands were grabbing Spencer. Before he could shout a protest, one arm was restrained and the other was jerked high up his back. A pained cry slipped past his lips. The pain of his arm was nothing compared to the pain that came from their touch, though. Spencer swore he felt a darkness in these men that was trying to reach out and smother him. Images popped into his head. Images of these men grabbing him, throwing him down, hurting him.

A hand grabbed his chin and Spencer cried out again as the darkness grew. His eyes cleared, only to find cold green eyes right in front of him. Alisa was there, clutching at his chin, staring at him. The softness and sweetness that he'd seen before was gone. In its place was a terrifyingly cold woman. "You should've taken my offer, darling boy." She told him in a voice that had lost any sense of warmth to it. "You see, I'm not asking you anymore. I'm telling you what's going to happen. You are _mine_. And if you think about disobeying me, I will make very sure that you regret it." She leaned in, putting her face just inches from his, and he shivered at the coldness from her. That shiver made her smile grow. "You feel it, don't you, my sweet little empath? I mean exactly what I say."

Spencer had faced countless bullies over the years. People who had taken great joy out of the pain they caused. Yet none of them scared him the way this woman was right now. But he'd learned a long time ago that admitting your fear only gave them more power. He screwed up every ounce of courage he had and he lifted his chin out of her grip. "I'm not scared of you." The words shook ever so slightly, but he said them. "Do what you want to me. I don't care. I won't do whatever it is you want."

The last thing he expected her to do was laugh. Yet the high, bell tones echoed around them. _Someone so evil shouldn't make such a beautiful sound_ he thought absently.

Alisa's laughter died away, though her smile stayed in place. She reached up one manicured hand and clasped his chin between finger and thumb again so that he was forced to look at her. "Darling boy, you are _terrified_ of me and all of us here know it. I'm the one that holds the power here. You think I'd be foolish enough to think that I could use personal pain as leverage over you? I've done my research. Someone who has been bullied the way you have isn't going to cower before the threat of pain. You know that it eventually ends. No, no, I have something much better." She leaned in until their faces were just a breath apart. Until he could see nothing beyond those cold, jade eyes. Then she said the four words guaranteed to earn his compliance. "I have your mother."

Everything inside of Spencer clenched tight. He knew his eyes widened and he couldn't stop it. "W-What?"

"You're so willing to take on pain for yourself. Are you willing to make the same sacrifice for your mother? Are you willing to risk her pain?"

Absolutely not. There was no need for Spencer to even think on that question. He would never risk his mother. Never, not at all. But how could he know that she really did have his mother? That question was answered as quickly as he thought it. Looking at her, he saw a jumble of images, different things that tumbled through his mind. In those, he saw one thing very clearly. She didn't actually have his mother, as in holding her hostage somewhere. But she did have people on her. People that would hurt her if ordered. A tremor ran down Spencer's body. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you, my darling boy. I want you and your powers." She said. Letting go of his chin, she straightened. "You're going to work for me as my personal little secret weapon. In the business I'm in, it pays to know who you're dealing with. With you at my side, with the aid of your empathy and your visions, I will know exactly what I'm dealing with. I'll know all the little things that a regular telepath can't tell me. You'll be able to read them for me and see the emotions they're trying to hide. You will leave your shields open and seek out visions to tell me if there's a chance they may betray me. You will, in short, do absolutely anything that I ask of you."

"And if I say no?"

"Then I will make sure your mother suffers every single day for the rest of her pathetic existence." Alisa said in a voice that left no doubt she was telling the truth. Her smile grew a little. "Would you like some of my men to pay her a visit? In her condition, it wouldn't be difficult to get to her, I would think. Or I could contact child services. How long do you think your mother would survive in a state facility?" At his look of terror, she let out another one of her bell tone laughs. "I know that you're saving up for her care. I know you're saving for the day you're eighteen and you can put her away legally. Work for me, my darling boy, and I will guarantee she's taken care of. Never again will you have to worry about the mortgage, food, medication, any of it. So long as you work for me, I will make sure your mother is well cared for. I'll even hire a nurse, if you wish, to visit daily while you're here at school."

What other choice did he have? Spencer felt like an animal who was slowly being caught in a trap, stuck watching the jaws close over him and unable to do anything to stop it. "I'd still attend school?"

"Of course. I'm not unreasonable. What you do with your days is your own business. But when I call for you, you come." Pausing, she stopped in front of him, folding her arms across her chest. Cold eyes pinned him in place. "So, what do you say, little boy?"

Spencer looked at her and he knew to the depth of his heart that she was serious about everything she'd said. She would hurt his mother if he didn't listen to her. She would do anything it took to have him and she wouldn't hesitate to punish him for any infraction. He was well and truly caught here. There was nothing that he could see to do to get himself out of this. Spencer stared at her and felt that final snap as the jaws of the trap clamped shut on him. "I say, when do I start?"

* * *

*One Year Later*

The ground was cold and hard against Spencer's knees. He'd been kneeling here long enough that the pain was there, yet not long enough to start achieving the numbness that could settle there sometimes. His head was bowed low and his hair hung loose, obscuring his face. It kept his face sheltered from view while still allowing him to see. Currently his attention was focused on the man sitting across from him on the couch. The man was talking avidly, gesturing with his hands as he got into what he was saying. All the while, Alisa sat beside Spencer in her chair, every inch the business lady. The two were in a meeting about something or other—the what of things, Spencer never paid attention to—and neither one paid the young genius any mind. For all the attention they gave him, he might as well have been a statue.

Spencer didn't dare let his attention waver, though. He didn't have to pay attention to the words that were said; what he paid attention to was far different. He didn't need to know the words to know whether or not they were a lie. Emotions told him that. He didn't have to know the words to see the visions that would tell him things about this man.

Something he said set off Spencer's senses and he moved his hand discreetly, tapping Alisa's ankle in the two tap sign that let her know the words were a lie.

Things quieted down for a bit and Spencer had a brief moment of respite. Then the man shifted, turned a certain way, and a tingle tickled the base of Spencer's skull just seconds before the vision struck. What he saw had him shuddering and bowing even lower. It took every ounce of control he'd learned this past year to keep from throwing up right there on the floor. The vision, thankfully, faded away. What he had seen was nothing that Alisa needed to know. But it was something that Spencer would never be able to forget. He now knew what the man would be doing when he went home this night. He knew the things the man would watch, how it would excite him.

Finally, the meeting ended and the man was escorted from the room. Spencer stayed in position and waited to be told to move. He had played variations of this scenario out so many times in the past thirteen months. Alisa had him present at most of the meetings that she had. She had him kneel beside her chair, shields wide open to watch the person she was meeting with. If he dared to try and close his shields, her telepath would let her know and she was definitely not above punishment. It had only taken a few times for Spencer to learn. Now…now, the trouble came from raising his shields, not keeping them down.

"Report." Alisa's voice interrupted his thoughts.

The sixteen year old boy stayed on his knees as he gave his employer a summary of everything he'd seen about the man. As he did, he fought to keep himself at least somewhat shielded from her emotions. There was no call to be open without someone else in here to read. Reading Alisa's emotions always left him feeling cold and sick.

Alisa nodded when his report was done. "Very good, pet." With one hand she patted his head as she rose, missing the small flinch he gave at the word 'pet'. "You can have fifteen minutes to step into the bathroom and pull yourself together. In twenty minutes, I have another meeting and I need you prepared. Your time starts now."

He waited until she was out of the room before scrambling to his feet. He had to brace on the chair for a minute before he could actually make his legs work. Kneeling on the ground for so long was not good for anyone. Shaky legs carried him across the room and into the small bathroom she kept stocked for him. In here were kept all the little things that they used to try and help him make it through the day. The things she asked him to do came with a price. One that Alisa had learned had to be paid. Using Spencer's powers this way damaged the young man. They left him weak and sickly, a pale shadow of his former self.

Hands braced on the sink's edge, Spencer looked down at himself. God! How had he reached this point? He'd become a wraith of who he once was. Sixteen and he looked more like fourteen. He'd lost weight. Most of the time he could barely eat and what little he did get in often ended up coming back up. Between the visions he saw, the negative emotions he felt, and an eidetic memory that preserved it all perfectly and liked to throw it back up at him later, he found it hard to eat or even sleep. Twice in the past year Alisa had been forced to keep Spencer out at her house under personal medical care. The second time, he'd been hooked up and tube fed. That was an experience he made damn sure to never have to repeat. He fought his damndest to keep any food in and he bought drinks like Ensure to try and help keep himself going and to get the nutrients he was missing from his spotty eating. Alisa warned him that she wouldn't let him starve himself out of her service. She likes having him around.

She had a new telepath in her employ now. One that was stronger than her last. Spencer held on to the hope that she would end up replacing him with this telepath one day. The man actually _wanted _to be here. More than that, he wanted Spencer's position at her side and he wasn't shy about letting that be known. He made it very clear just how much he hated Spencer and how badly he wanted his place. Little did he realize how badly Spencer wanted him to have the job.

There was a soft rapping at the bathroom door only moments before it opened and one of Alisa's young assistants came in. It was a younger guy, the one that Spencer actually did well with. The man silently offered Spencer the glass that he carried and Spencer resisted the urge to sigh. There was no point in turning this down. He needed it. "Thank you."

"Of course, sir." The man turned on heel and silently left the room. He was good at what he did. Professional and impersonal. Exactly what Alisa wanted. Her staff were under orders to be a calming presence when around Spencer because she didn't want them upsetting her property or distracting him from his duties. They'd all found out the hard way that she wouldn't be lax on that rule. She'd had an assistant that was hard and rude once to Spencer, so much so that their emotions had knocked Spencer out flat for an entire day. She'd been angry with Spencer but furious with the assistant. When Spencer came back the next day, the assistant was gone and the other staff members all walked very carefully around Spencer.

Spencer took a drink off his glass as he moved over towards the toilet. He moved almost like an old man. If he had more days off, this would be easier. He would have more time to recover. But all this constant, nonstop use of his powers, it was destroying him. He couldn't control the visions at all and his empathic shields were horrible. He'd missed so much school because of it that he'd be in danger of losing his scholarship and failing if it wasn't for the fact that he turned in all assignments and passed every test they gave him. He just had too many sick days and preferred to hide out in his little apartment where the emotions couldn't hurt him as much.

It's not the visions themselves that were so bad. It was what he _sees_ when he has them. Those are the things that haunt his nights and make it so hard for him to eat or sleep. They leave him feeling sick and dirty all the time. All around him, everything is dark and dirty and slimy and he feels like it's seeped down into his very bones. Like he's so filthy from it all, he'll never get clean again. They just take so much energy out of him anymore.

He fought to get himself together once more within his allotted time. When he was sure he was close to his limit, he left his half drank glass on the counter and made his way back to the main room. Just as he got back onto his knees, the door opened and Alisa came strolling back in. She said nothing to him as she settled down into her chair once more. This was her little 'business corner' of her office. There was a couch and a coffee table opposite her and her chair. Another chair sat to her right, but that was rarely used. Most people took the couch.

As the two waited for whatever or whoever was coming, one of Alisa's hands dropped down to play idly with his hair. Spencer had to fight to keep down his revulsion. He held still and let her play with his hair like he was some dog. "Our next guest is very important." She said suddenly, giving a bit of his hair a light tug. "He's a thief that I want to retrieve something for me. He has Guild connections. Though he's an outcast among his people, he is the Prince to the New Orleans house, and his approval would go far in my plans for expansion. If he accepts this job and things go well, it would be a very fine feather in my cap. So I want you watch him carefully, darling boy, and see if you can help me steer things to go the right direction. I want to know anything you find out about him."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good boy."

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. The secretary stepped in, holding the door for a man to come walking in. Spencer peeked up through his bangs and watched their newcomer. Tall, slender without being lanky, and with a handsome face that Alisa would approve of. He wore sunglasses, hiding his eyes, and his shaggy hair hung half in his face. He was dressed in business clothes, yet topped it all with a trench coat. Spencer found himself surprised by how young the man looked. He ignored that thought and pushed it aside as unimportant. Carefully, with the unique little twist of emotions that he'd learned to do, Spencer projected what he thought of as his 'don't see me' vibe. Just the right combination of emotions that encouraged others to not notice him.

The man greeted Alisa, bowing over her hand with a flourish and pressing a kiss with a charm that pleased her immensely. He took his seat on the couch and tipped his head toward the side. It was hard to tell if he was being looked at because of the sunglasses, but Spencer was almost sure those eyes were on him. "Gambit t'ought we was doin' dis meetin' alone, _mademoiselle._"

Surprise echoed in Spencer. This Gambit had noticed him? He'd seen past the little vibe and had actually noticed him? Not only that, but he'd called Alisa on it! _No one _did that.

Alisa didn't seem the least bit bothered by it. "Oh, don't worry." She reached out once more and stroked her hand through Spencer's hair. Just barely did he manage to restrain his shudder. With his shields open so wide, her emotions were like acid against his mind. "My pet is very discreet. He knows better than to speak of anything he sees in here. Don't you, my darling boy?"

He knew what she expected of him and he schooled his voice to one of quiet subservience. "Yes, mistress." Inside, he died just a little more as those words passed his lips.

Gambit stared for just a moment longer, his expression unreadable and his emotions steady. Then he turned back towards Alisa and it was as if he forgot Spencer entirely. That was something else that he was used to. Yet for once, he found himself just slightly regretful. The way this Gambit had looked at him had been different than others. Even with the sunglasses, Spencer had felt like the man wasn't just looking at him, but actually _seeing_ him. How long had it been since someone had truly seen him? Not even his advisors at school ever really saw him anymore. They saw what he wanted them to see. Just a hint of the 'don't notice me' vibe and they seemed to gloss right over him. It was getting so that he projected that without even thinking about it anymore. It was his only defense mechanism he had left.

The soft movement of Alisa's leg against him drew Spencer's attention back and he mentally cursed himself. He was supposed to be paying attention!

* * *

Spencer was exhausted the next day as he dragged himself through his classes. It was Friday, thank God, which meant no classes the next two days, and Alisa didn't need him again until Monday. That left him with a whole weekend to just lie around the apartment and recover. The idea was so appealing it was hard not to skip today's classes and start his weekend early. But he had a full day of class to attend an he couldn't afford to miss any if he didn't have to. Plus, he needed to stop off at the store on the way home and get himself some food. Alisa was good about keeping her end of the bargain; she kept money in his account for things like food and bills, and she kept his mother well cared for financially, too. She even made sure that his apartment bills were paid. Though Caltech housed him in their own off site apartments, he still paid rent. Before, it had come out of his scholarships and grants and he'd just pinched the rest of his bills. Now, he didn't have to worry. In a way, it was as if she truly did seem to believe that this was a business relationship. His services for this compensation.

Eventually the end of the day rolled around and Spencer managed to make a quick stop off at the store. His flimsy shields were barely managing to hold up enough for him to handle the bus ride home. By the time he got to his apartment, he was ready to curl up in his bed for a few hours—years—and just rest. He shuffled his one bag in his arm and reached out with his other hand to unlock the door. He got the door open and stepped inside—and stopped in his tracks. There, sitting at his kitchen table like he owned the place, was the man from Alisa's meeting yesterday. Gambit, he went by, though Alisa said his name was Remy LeBeau. He was sitting here at Spencer's table. Here. Alone. Picking at one of his fingernails with a small knife. Spencer stared at the man and knew that he should really be afraid right now. He should be beyond worried and going into terrified to find this man just calmly sitting in his dining room. So why wasn't he?

After one long pause, he gave a mental shrug and continued inside, shutting the door behind him. His front door opened up right to the kitchen and dining room, so he only had to turn left to step into the kitchen. He didn't say anything. Whatever this guy wanted, he'd get to the point eventually. Demanding answers wouldn't do anything. One thing Spencer had learned in Alisa's employ was that there was no point in him trying to act tough about anything. He was the weak man on the totem pole and he knew it. Easier and safer to just wait and find out what people wanted with him than to try and demand it and get hurt.

It didn't take long for Remy to speak up. Spencer was just putting his milk into the fridge when he heard that warm Cajun drawl behind him. "So, dey let de pet off de leash every now and again, eh?"

Spencer couldn't stop his small flinch at that. He tried to cover it up by turning towards the counter and pulling his eggs out of the bag. He chose to ignore the comment, since there was no good way to answer it, and instead opted to say "Alisa won't be happy when she finds out you came here." Best to warn him of that right now.

A low snort came from his guest. "Aint plannin' on tellin' her, mec."

"She probably already knows. It's not as if she leaves me unsupervised."

"Oh, y' meant de goon squad outside? Cher, don't insult Gambit. De day he can't get past dem is de day he's out of a job."

Spencer made a noncommittal sound to that. What was he supposed to say here? What was he supposed to do? This guy had to want something. There was no reason for him to be here, otherwise. But what was it that he wanted? Spencer lifted the bottles of Ensure out and slid them into their cupboard. Then he turned around and made himself face the man who was still sitting at his table, still watching him. "What are you doing here?"

He had been half afraid that his question might set Remy off. Men in this darker world rarely ever reacted well to Spencer voicing a question. But Remy didn't seem bothered. He casually moved his knife to his next fingernail and started on that one, carving the nail down a little. "Y'r a puzzle, _homme_. An one t'ing Gambit can't resist is a good puzzle."

What was a person supposed to say to that? How did someone respond to that kind of comment? Spencer had no idea. He settled for making a small sound, not agreement but not disagreement either, and he turned back once more to start putting the last of his items away.

His guest didn't seem to mind his silence at all. If anything, it seemed to encourage him. "Y'r a bundle of questions, Spencer Reid." He smirked when that got him a curious look. "Yeah, Gambit knows y'r name. Asked round about y', after following y' back here after de meetin'. De more Gambit heard, de more confused he got. Like he said, y'r a bundle of questions. Such as, what's a sixteen year old genius, one dat's working on his _second_ Ph.D., doing hooked up wit' a _femme_ like Alisa? What's a kid dat looks no more dan fourteen doin' wit' a shark like her, playing de part of a pretty lil pet?" Remy dropped his feet down from the table and rose in one fluid movement that Spencer had to admire. His knife vanished up his sleeve. The Cajun sauntered forward, his body practically oozing an aura of danger and sex that was damn near intoxicating. "Been t'inking about dat while waiting fo' y' to get home. Only brought on more questions. One of de biggest ones, though—what's an empath doin' with a woman he can't even stand to have touch him?"

Spencer felt his eyes widen at that. He took an involuntary step back, suddenly much more concerned than he'd been before. Remy knew he was an empath? Did he…did he know the rest, too? Did he know about the visions? Oh, shit. Maybe that was why he was here. Maybe he knew and he was furious at Spencer for using his powers against him. He'd always wondered if this would happen one day. If someone would see him and realize what he was doing and try to take him out to take away Alisa's advantage.

His panic didn't go unnoticed. Remy's lips curved the slightest bit. "_Oui_, Gambit knows about dat. He knows about y'r empathy. Saw de way y' flinched back from her touch, too. Y' can't stand havin' her hands on y' and y' almost choked when y' called her 'Mistress'." He closed a little more distance between them, crowding into Spencer's kitchen. Never before had the kitchen seemed so small. Yet Remy seemed to take up so much space with his presence alone. He was stalking forward and Spencer was slowly backing up until the counter bumped against his back and he had nowhere else to go. Remy stopped with just a few feet of space between them, still watching Spencer carefully through those sunglasses of his. "Y' see, dere's all dese questions wit'out any answers." He drawled out, making the words almost a purr, sending a shiver down Spencer's spine. "So what is it dat y'r getting outta dis, Spencer Reid? What could dat _femme_ possibly offer y' to make y' kneel so perfectly at her feet, hmm?"

It took a few swallows before Spencer could manage to find his voice. Something was pushing at him, telling him to answer this man, to trust him. It made him _want_ to trust him. But he had learned his lesson well with Alisa. Self-preservation won out and had him asking "Why does it matter to you?"

Remy's smile grew just a little bit sharp. He reached up, pulling his sunglasses off, revealing the most uniquely beautiful eyes that Spencer had ever had the pleasure of seeing. Those red and black orbs held him pinned in place. "Cause mutants like us gotta stick together, _homme_. Somet'ing tells Gambit dat Alisa's got her claws in y', using y' fo' y'r powers, and he made a promise to himself to never walk by somet'ing like dat if he could help."

Oh, God, it was tempting. Though Spencer was fighting to keep his shields in place, they were as shoddy as usual and he was getting flashes of Remy's emotions. Nothing in them suggested that the man was lying to him. But…could he really trust him? Could he trust him to actually help? It seemed too good to be true. What could one man do against Alisa and all of her people? Could he really put his mother at risk on just a chance? _No. No, I can't_. Despair crashed in, smothering his hope. He clenched his hands down on the counter and bowed his head, his eyes sliding closed. Defeat was in every line of his body. "There's nothing you can do." He whispered achingly. "There's nothing anyone can do. Please, just…just leave. You can't help me."

"Spencer…" That soft word and a faint whisper were Spencer's only warning before Remy was suddenly right in front of him and a hand was cupping his face. A tingle started at the base of Spencer's skull and he let out a soft cry as the vision slammed into him with enough force to drop him to his knees. He barely registered Remy's arms catching him, or the man's startled exclamations. All of his attention was focused on what he saw. Image after image, flashes here and there, bits of things that were gone as quickly as they came. Spencer curled into the arms that were supporting him and he tried to breathe around the onslaught of images. When they finally stopped, he was gasping raggedly and clutching to the arms that were holding him.

Oh man, he hated visions like that. They weren't a set 'this is what's going to happen' and they weren't glimpses of things that had already happened. These were the 'could be' kind of vision. What he'd just seen wasn't set in stone. They were things that had the potential to become reality. Little glimpses and clips of he and Remy. Of the two of them in the future. What they were doing, he wasn't sure. All he had was the general feel. The images had gone by too fast for him to be able to make them all out. What he did know was that they were friends in there. Good friends. He had been _happy _in those images. Spencer ached for that happiness. What he saw, what he felt, wasn't guaranteed to happen, though. It all hinged on this moment, this very second. What choice would he make? What road would he go down? Which one would take him to that place? It seemed obvious, yet what he saw wasn't always that straightforward. Not when they were 'potentials', as he called visions like these. They were rare, even more so to involve him like this.

The young teenager lifted his head and looked up into the demon eyes that were locked on him. In that look, that single moment in time, Spencer knew his answer. "Please, help me."

Remy drew him over to the table and gently lowered him down to a chair. Then he went over to the sink and grabbed a glass from the dish drainer. He filled it with water and brought it over to Spencer. Setting the glass down in front of the man, Remy then took the seat across from him. He caught one of Spencer's hands in his and held it there. "Tell me everyt'ing. Start at de beginning."

Spencer took a small sip off the water, his hand shaking as he did. "It started thirteen months ago…"

* * *

Three days later, Spencer was once more kneeling at Alisa's side. His hands were folded in his lap and his head bowed down to try and hide his face. His whole body was throbbing. He'd spent most of his day kneeling here and the morning's business hadn't gone quite the way that Alisa had wanted, meaning that she'd spent her lunch hour absolutely furious and Spencer had been the only one around for it. He'd been the only one there to absorb her fury, both psychically and physically. But evening had rolled around now and she was in a meeting that was making her much happier. Remy had showed up only fifteen minutes ago, bearing the item he'd been hired to take.

Alisa was trying to take care of payment and Spencer watched as Remy shook his head. The two were sitting together on the couch, their voices low as they murmured to one another. From his position on the ground by the chair, Spencer could easily see the two. There was definitely something sexual in the air around them. Whatever Remy was doing, he was definitely pouring it on thick. Spencer could feel the sex oozing through the air. He bit his lip and watched the two flirt quietly. What was Remy doing? What did he have planned? The other night he'd listened to Spencer talk and he'd asked questions to draw out more information. Then he'd told Spencer to relax and let him handle things. When Spencer had tried to ask what would happen, Remy had patted his arm and reassured him that it would be taken care of. "Y' trust Remy. De less y' know, de better. Don't want her telepat' pickin' it up outta y'r head, cher."

So here he was, watching the two and wondering what the hell was going to happen. He fought down a shiver as Alisa let out one of her musical laughs. There was a husky edge to it that told him that the sex in the air was really getting to her. Spencer had already easily sensed her attraction to the Cajun. It was kicked into high gear now. When Remy leaned in, running a finger up her leg and purring "Tell y'r boy to wait outside fo' us. _S'il vous plait?_" she practically fell over herself to tell him to get out and wait out in the hallway.

He didn't have to be told twice. Though his legs shook and trembled, they managed to get him out of the room. Once out, he took up his customary spot against the wall. This was where he'd spent plenty of time before. When Alisa sent him out of the room, she never wanted him to go far. She wanted him close to her. That meant standing nearby and waiting. Spencer had become a pro at being as still as possible whether standing or kneeling. He stood here now and locked his body down while letting his mind drift. He gathered as much of his shields as he could and tried to keep them around his mind. Something told him that he didn't really want to feel what was going on in that office right now.

How long he waited there, he didn't know. Eventually, the office door opened and the two came strolling out together. There was absolutely no doubt about what they'd been doing. Alisa's hair was a little mussed and her clothing slightly rumpled. Remy looked put back together, though his lips were quirked up in a sexy little grin. More than anything, Alisa looked pleased. She practically radiated it. Her eyes found Spencer quickly and she strolled right over to him. He held still, not moving an inch when she lifted her hand and tapped a finger against his cheek. "Are you sure this is what you want, dear?" She asked, her words directed to the man behind her, not the one she was looking at. "I do think he's become rather broken. I was about to dispose of him myself, actually." There was such utter honesty in her words that Spencer felt his insides freeze over. A flash went through his mind and he saw, he knew, what she had planned on doing with him. His skin paled and he almost swayed in place. The look she gave him clearly said she had seen it and was pleased with the reaction.

Remy just smiled, all cool control and arrogance with that smug, sexual edge to it. "He's a pretty t'ing, t'ough. Cleaned up and fed up a lil, he'll make a pretty lil pet fo' Gambit, _non_?"

That had Alisa laughing, the sweet sound filling the hallway. She ran her nail down Spencer's cheek. "You're going to serve one last purpose for me, my darling boy. I'm selling you to our Cajun friend over there in return for a small contract with the Guild. That makes you his problem now, not mine. Enjoy your new master." She caught hold of his chin and Spencer was held in place as she kissed him. The feel of her lips against his, the slam of her emotions, had him fighting back the urge to hurl right on her. He was still battling it when she let go of him and turned around to face Remy once more. She reached out and patted Remy's cheek. "I like you, dearest. I look forward to doing business with you again."

"Until den, _mademoiselle._" He caught her hand in his and pressed a kiss against the back, winking up at her and making her giggle once more.

When he let go, he made a gesture towards Spencer that the young genius took as a hint to follow. What else could he do? Numb, dazed, Spencer followed after him. He let Remy usher him into a car and he stayed numbed as that car took them somewhere. It wasn't until they were inside of Spencer's apartment that he realized where he was. In just enough time, too. His stomach finally lost its battle and he dashed down the hall to the bathroom. He made it to the toilet with only seconds to spare. As he knelt there, hands clenched on the toilet seat, he felt a pair of hands gather his hair back from his face. They held it for him while his body tried to empty out everything in it.

Eventually his body gave up the fight. Remy was still there when he was done and he pressed a cup of water into Spencer's hands, encouraging him to rinse and spit. "Dat's it, cher. Dere y' go." Remy murmured as he watched Spencer gather himself once more. The water was used and the toilet flushed. Spencer rose enough to be able to stand at the sink and brush his teeth. Then he let Remy get him out of the bathroom and down the hall to the bedroom. It felt good to turn himself over to a pair of hands that were there to take care of him, not hurt him. Was this what it felt like to have an older brother? He'd never had this kind of caring from his father and his mother had never been able to do this, not once he got older. Sometimes not even when he'd been a kid. But this didn't feel parental, what Remy was doing. Spencer entertained himself with thoughts of brothers and siblings while Remy got him down into the bed and even tucked him in.

Instead of leaving Spencer there, the Cajun kicked off his shoes and folded himself down onto the bed, sitting cross legged in front of Spencer. He reached out an stroked Spencer's hair back from his face. "Y' listen to Remy fo' a minute, okay?"

"Okay." Spencer croaked. His throat felt sore from how much he'd thrown up lately.

"Y'r safe now, petit. What happened wit' Remy and Alisa, it aint important. What is important is dat y' and y'r _mere _are safe. Alisa sold y' t' Remy in return fo' a few jobs dat she t'inks will help her get de Guilds on her side. She aint stupid enough t' try and touch either of y' now. She won't dare risk angering m' family and, as of now, y' two are under Guild protection. Remy may not be allowed home, _mais_ he's still part of de family and dey'll honor his word. Y'r safe now."

Spencer's throat closed up with emotion. He couldn't get a single word past his lips. Lifting his eyes, he looked up at Remy and tried to put everything he couldn't say into his eyes.

It seemed to be enough. Remy smiled down at him an stroked his hair again. He gave them a few moments of quiet to settle in before he spoke again. "Dere's some business dat Remy's gotta take care of, petit. Know it aint de best time t' go right now, what wit' all dis, _mais_ dere's no way outta it. Shouldn't take any more dan a week t' finish it. Remy'll keep some people round t' watch de house fo' y', bot' here and wit' y'r _mere_. No one's gonna bother y'." Moving his hand, he tapped a finger against Spencer's nose. "While Remy's gone, he wants y' t' take care of y'rself. Eat somet'ing, _mon ami_. Take a lil time, rest y'rself, get some food in y'r system. Try to reset dem shields wit'out her and her people dere making y' keep em down all de time. Once Remy gets back, we'll see bout gettin' y' healthy and gettin' y' some control b'fore y'r powers kill y'."

"Okay." Spencer said again. It seemed the only word he was able to get out.

Remy smiled warmly down at him. He moved his hand off Spencer's hair and down to his arm, stroking softly in a soothing way. "Remy's gonna stay at least till y' fall asleep. Jus' relax, Spencer. Go t' sleep. Y'r safe, now."

For the first time in a while, Spencer fell asleep actually feeling like he might really be safe.

* * *

It was almost one week to the day that Remy was gone. For the second time, Spencer came home to find that Remy was already inside of his apartment waiting for him. Only this time, the man wasn't sitting at the table waiting. This time he was standing at the counter and putting groceries into the cupboards. He didn't turn around when Spencer came in. He just immediately set in to scolding him. "Y' aint got not'in in dis house, Spencer! Have y' been eatin' at all while Remy was gone or was y' just getting by on dese cans of Ensure here, huh?"

For a second Spencer could only stand there and stare, nonplussed. He hadn't expected to come home and find someone here, someone who would be making themselves at home like they'd lived here for years and who would be lecturing him. The novelty of having someone lecture him on his eating habits was enough to have a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Hello, Remy."

The man turned and looked over his shoulder and Spencer could see that he was smiling too. "Don't t'ink bein' cute is gonna get y' outta trouble." Remy warned him, his smile growing a little. He gestured behind him with one hand and went back to unloading the paper sack in front of him. "Sit y'rself on down at de table while Remy gets dese put away. Den we're gonna talk, an not just about de food."

What the other subject was became clear rather quickly. Spencer sat down at the table, sliding his backpack down to the ground beside him, and he saw the small stack of bills sitting on the table top, the bills he'd been worrying about the past few days. "You went through my mail?"

"Aint goin' t'rough it when it's just lyin' dere, now is it?"

"My bills are my own business." Spencer snapped. Mortified, he snatched the papers up. "You had no right reading them."

Scoffing, Remy waved a hand dismissively, just casually brushing that away. He didn't even grace that statement with a reply. Instead, he moved on to what he considered the important part of it. "She's been payin' fo' t'ings fo' y', aint she?"

The color in Spencer's cheeks deepened. Dropping his gaze, he focused on the letters in his hands, smoothing out the wrinkles he'd put there and carefully folding them just to give himself something to do so he wouldn't have to look up. "It's not a big deal. I can find a job or something…"

"_Non_. Y' aint slummin' round and y' aint pickin' up a crap job, not wit' y'r shields de way dey are." Remy scolded him. "Remy took y'r security away, took away y'r income source. Let him worry about it. _Désolé, mon ami. _Should've t'ought of dat b'fore leavin' y' dat way."

He wanted to _what_? Absolutely not! "Remy, I can't let you just pay my bills."

"Ah, cher, y'r a sweet one." Remy turned and smiled fondly at him. He reached over and gave Spencer's shoulder a casual squeeze before turning back to the cupboard and continuing to put away cans. "Remy's got more money dan he's ever gonna know what to do wit'. Aint not'in to take over y'r bills. Y' sit down tonight and y' write em all out fo' Remy, _all_ of dem, and we'll get t'ings set up."

"And what is it you're going to want in return for all this? What am I going to have to do for you in return for this, _generosity_?" Spencer asked bluntly. His insides quivered but he stood his ground.

The cynicism and bitterness in his tone had Remy stopping what he was doing. He turned around and gave Spencer his full, undivided attention, the seriousness of the moment getting through to him. Reaching up, he pushed his sunglasses up to the top of his head, giving Spencer a clear view of his eyes. They were firm and steady on Spencer's face, full of that honesty that Spencer had recognized and trusted before. "Y' want to know what Remy wants from y' fo' dis? What he wants y' to do?"

_Here it comes. I knew it._ A lump built in Spencer's throat, making his voice just a little hoarse. "What?"

The answer Remy gave was the last thing Spencer had expected. "Remy wants y' to go to school. To study, learn, get de degrees y' want." He said calmly. "He wants y' to get healthy again. He wants y' to know dat y'r Mama's safe and taken care of. Remy wants to see y' learn how to smile. To learn dat de world aint all like de people y' saw dere. He wants y' to take y'r life back, Spencer. Dat's what Remy wants in return fo' his generosity." Hooking his hands in his pockets, he leaned casually back against the counter, never once looking away, even though Spencer had long since dropped his gaze and was staring down at the ground in embarrassment. "Spencer, y' aint Remy's property. Responsibility, _oui_. Property? _Non. _No one owns y'. _Mais,_ Remy gonna take care of y'."

Embarrassment and discomfort had Spencer flushing. When he spoke, his words were low, almost a mumble. "You just feel obligated because you bought me from Alisa. I, I don't need protection. I can make it." There was pride in that, just the few tatters that he had left. It wasn't much but it was all he had.

There was a whisper of movement and then suddenly Remy was squatting down right there in front of him. One gloved thumb tucked under his chin and lifted his head, forcing him to look up into Remy's eyes. Protectiveness and caring both seemed to be radiating off of the man. "Dere's no point in denying dat part of dis is obligation, Spencer. Aint gonna insult y'r intelligence by pretending otherwise, me. Remy took y' on when he claimed y' and let her t'ink dat y' was under Guild protection. Dat's a serious t'ing and dere's no way to ignore it. _Mais_ dere's more to it dan dat and y' know it. Y' can feel it. Y'r a good person, Spencer Reid, and y' didn't deserve what y' went t'rough wit' dat _femme_. Dat right dere is enough fo' Remy to want to help."

Emotion clogged Spencer's throat. He couldn't speak past it. That must've shown on his face because Remy's gaze softened and he leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss against Spencer's forehead. Then he let go of him. "Go on, cher. Go get y'r shower an relax a lil. Supper'll be on de table when y' get back. We'll eat and talk about good t'ings fo' a bit b'fore we deal wit' de rest."

Still stunned silent, Spencer found himself doing as he was told.

* * *

There had never been anyone in Spencer's life quite like Remy. The man had been true to his word that night. Dinner had been on the table by the time that Spencer came back out. They'd shared a nice meal, giving them a bit of good as Remy had promised before they dealt with the rest. When they were done, Remy had told Spencer to gather his bills and the two had settled in at the table. It galled Spencer to accept the man's money. He hated the idea of that. Hated it—but he wasn't too proud to accept it. It took care of his mom and for that alone he accepted it. But he still felt like he owed Remy. When he mentioned it, Remy just brushed it off and laughed.

Remy stayed with him for the next few weeks. He vanished here and there for short moments, doing some 'jobs' that he wouldn't ever give too much detail on, but for the most part he stayed with Spencer, trying to help him gain control. Trying—and failing.

Nothing that they did seemed to help Spencer control his powers. He could only manage to keep his shields up for limited amounts of time. When he did get them up, all it took was a wrong touch and they would waver and fall. Once, in those few months after his powers manifested, keeping his shields up had been instinctive and it had been hard for him to force them to come down. Now he couldn't seem to keep them up. Spencer knew that part of it was psychological. He'd been trained from almost the instant he'd gained his powers to keep his shields down and he'd been punished when he'd tried to keep them up. He couldn't quite escape that fear now even knowing that there was no one around to punish him for it.

The 'why' didn't really matter. What mattered was that Spencer couldn't gain control and his powers seemed to be getting stronger. With Alisa, more often than not it had been Spencer's empathy that he had used to help her, reading people and weeding out the lies. His visions had been only here and there and they didn't always pertain to what was being discussed, anyways. Now, the visions were coming. Multiple times a day. He would look at someone walking down the hall and see what it was they were going to be doing that night. One night he woke in his bed screaming because of visions of the car wreck happening just down the road. What little food they'd managed to get in him that night had quickly come back up. That was a far more common occurrence than either he or Remy liked. Remy fought hard to try and keep food in Spencer's system and put weight back on him.

One of the things that Remy worked on with Spencer the most was teaching him how to let himself feel. But life in general had taught Spencer to try to block away his own feelings, not embrace them. Alisa had just reinforced those lessons. If he saw something horrifying in a vision, Alisa made him hold it inside, demanding he let nothing show. Out of self-preservation, Spencer had fought over this past year to cut off his own emotions. Alisa didn't tolerate any displays of emotion. The first time he'd seen someone be hurt in a vision and had come back to find tears in his eyes, she'd had him strapped. When he told Remy that, the Cajun was horrified by it.

Remy was convinced that learning to embrace his emotions would help make the empathy and such easier to control. "Right now y' lock it all away, cher. How can y' control what emotions y' feel from others when y' won't even let y'rself feel y'r own?"

So Spencer tried. He and Remy worked hard on getting Spencer to actually let himself feel things and not lock it away. Spencer tried to remember not to hide it, to let himself feel it, and Remy was right there for him, ready to help him through it no matter what it was. If Spencer felt or saw something that hurt, Remy encouraged him to let it. To acknowledge the feelings. If something brought on the tears, Spencer tried not to lock himself down as he usually did. More than once he would go to his room and shut himself inside and just curl up in the middle of his bed in a nest of blankets and there he'd let out the tears he wouldn't dare let fall anywhere else. It wasn't unusual when that happened for Remy to come into the room and climb into bed with him. He'd wrap his arms around Spencer and hold him close, which would serve to bring the tears on faster and stronger. No one in Spencer's life had ever held him that way. No one had ever encouraged him to cry.

Things finally came to a head when work took Remy out of town for two weeks. Spencer still was having a hard time, only able to keep his shields up for, at the most, a day. Even then, he ended the day with a headache and extremely shaky. But this was a job that Remy couldn't get out of. He knew it and so did Spencer. It took almost a full night for Spencer to convince him that he'd survive while he was gone. Finally, come morning, Remy reluctantly agreed, and he left late that morning while Spencer was at school.

Spencer hadn't been the least bit sure that he'd be able to be okay on his own. Still, forcing Remy to stay with him wasn't what he wanted. He told himself to just suck it up and do what he had to.

Each day he went to school, went to his classes, and he fought with everything he had to keep his shields up and the visions at bay. He was managing it, too, until the third night.

That was the first night he dreamed of blood and death and murder.

* * *

For a week and a half, a serial killer haunted the streets of Los Angeles. For a week and a half, Spencer witnessed things that left him feeling sick down to his soul. By the time the killer was caught, Spencer had already seen things that he knew would haunt him for a long time to come. The very last vision, the one where the killer was caught, came to him as he was stepping out of the shower. He witnessed what the man did to the person with him and he witnessed the cops arriving just moments too late. When he came to, he was lying on the bathroom floor without remembering how he got there and his head was throbbing. The pain, usually a distraction from the images, just wasn't enough this time. Spencer couldn't hold himself together. Curling his body in, he cradled his head in his hands and gave in to the sobs that ripped from him with violent intensity.

That was where Remy found him some time later. The Cajun heard the crying from the kitchen and he didn't hesitate to drop the bag of food in his hands and race off towards the source. When he found Spencer, he gave a cry of his own. How long Spencer had been lying there, he had no idea, but he was still wet and his skin was like ice. Remy grabbed for the towels on the rack and wrapped them around Spencer.

Spencer reacted almost the instant Remy touched him. He didn't pull away, though. Instead, he almost climbed on him, getting into his embrace and curling up tight, like a small child trying to hide in his parent's arms from whatever had terrified them. It broke Remy's heart. Feeling how slender Spencer had become—how had he lost so much weight in just two weeks?—only made him ache more. With gentle hands and soft, coaxing words, he got his frozen young friend up and back to the bedroom. There Remy dried him carefully and then drew them both down into the bed. He stripped himself down to his boxers and left Spencer naked so that skin pressed against skin while they huddled under the blankets. At the same time, he sent Spencer positive emotions, trying to warm him both outside and in.

It took a good half hour before Spencer could stop shivering and crying long enough to tell Remy what was going on. Even so, what did come out was broken and babbled, words pushed together into sentences that didn't always make sense, but that got the general gist across. Remy only clutched Spencer tighter to him and held him through the next round of tears. When they finally faded, he brought up the one thing that he knew Spencer didn't really want to talk about, but that he believed was fast becoming their only option. "Dere's someone Remy knows dat might be able to help."

Spencer knew what that meant; a telepath. It wasn't the first time Remy had suggested it. But the idea of letting a telepath into his mind terrified Spencer after what Alicia's telepath had done to him. "Remy, no, please…"

The arms around him tightened and Remy held him even closer. "Spencer, y'r powers, dey're killin' y'. If we don't do somet'in, dey're gonna kill y', or y'r gonna starve to death. I can't let dat happen."

Hearing Remy use first-person speech instead of his usual third-person had Spencer looking up with surprise. He found Remy's eyes staring down at him with so much concern. But it was the traces of fear in there that won Spencer over. He couldn't stand to see fear in the usually fearless man. Not when it would be so easy to fix it. Spencer drew in a shuddering breath and he dropped his eyes once more. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to willingly let a telepath into his head? _I've got no other choice. Remy's right. I can't keep going like this._ His hands clenched and he nodded jerkily against the man's chest, not able to force the words out past his lips.

Remy breathed out a sigh of relief and Spencer felt some of his tension fade away. "_Merci_." He pressed a soft kiss against the crown of Spencer's head.

As Remy pulled him in closer, Spencer hoped that this telepath really could help him. Because if she couldn't—he had no idea what he was going to do.

* * *

The woman that came by his apartment that night was nothing like what he'd expected. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't this tall, gorgeous woman with blond hair dyed with pink and purple streaks, dressed in short black dress with a pink mesh crop top and pink heels that gave her already considerable height a boost. She probably stood toe to toe with Remy when she was flat on her feet, and Remy was taller than Spencer. She strolled in once Remy opened the door and she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in for a hug that had him laughing out loud. "Remy, as I live and breathe! Let me look at you." Pulling back, she grinned down at the man, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. "I swear it's not fair. You look more gorgeous each time I see you."

"Look who's talkin'? Y' turn heads wherever y' go and y' know it, Star." Remy shot back. He tipped his head up and leered at her. "When y' gonna let Remy take y' out, chere?"

She let out a laugh that was low and husky, matching that straight-sex voice of hers. "In your dreams, LeBeau." She patted his cheek and smirked. "You couldn't handle a woman like me."

Leaving Remy laughing behind her, she came further into the apartment, her eyes zeroing in on Spencer, who was sitting over on the couch. Almost instantly she gave a soft little gasp and all signs of flirtation faded from her. The click of her heels echoed around them as she hurried forward. Spencer sat there stunned as she dropped down to her knees right in front of him. She reached up and took both of Spencer's hands in hers and he noticed for the first time that she was wearing gloves. "Oh, you poor thing. What happened to you? Who hurt you like this?"

Spencer looked up at Remy, who came over and slipped down next to him on the couch, and then back down to the woman still kneeling in front of him. "I, uh…I'm sorry?"

Her eyes moved to Remy and they sharpened. "You said he was having trouble with his shields. You never said anything about _this_."

"What're y' talking about, Star?" Remy asked. He put his hand on Spencer's leg, a silent support. "We aint telepaths, so we don't know what y'r seeing."

She made a pained sound and turned back to Spencer. The sympathy and sorrow he felt from her came right through his shields and wrapped around him. "It's no wonder you're having trouble with your shields, Spencer. Can I call you Spencer?" She waited for his nod and gave him a small smile that quickly wiped away for the same sad look as before. "Someone really hurt you, didn't they? It's amazing that you can keep them up as much as you are with all the damage there. I've never seen anything like this. What on earth happened?"

There was something about her that had Spencer responding to her words, though he had avoided speaking of this part of things even to Remy. "She wanted me to keep my walls down all the time with her. If I, if I didn't, she'd have her telepath force his way in and bring them down. She used him for punishment, too, if I did something wrong, and she had him scan me all the time to make sure I wasn't keeping things from her. He didn't like me so he…he wasn't that gentle."

A soft growl came from Remy. Star just closed her eyes and whispered something so low Spencer couldn't hear it. But he felt it as she reached out to him. It took all his self-control to keep calm and let her in past his fragile shields. Her touch was like nothing he'd felt. It wasn't hard or rough, wasn't sharp or painful. It was warm and soothing. Spencer couldn't keep in the soft gasp of surprise. He closed his own eyes and let that touch fill him, not even thinking of fighting it anymore. She flowed through his mind like a blue-grey wave and some of the raw edges seemed to fade a little. The constant headache he lived with dulled ever so slightly.

"Whoever did this did a lot of damage." Star said softly. "And your powers are strong. Strong enough that the shields can't keep them in. They're constantly fighting to hold them back and it just puts new damage on the old, giving your mind no chance to heal itself. The damage is so far, so deep…"

"What can we do?" Remy asked.

Spencer blinked open his eyes and he looked down at her. He saw surprise go across her face and he realized that she had to have caught his thought in his mind. He didn't even have to ask it out loud. She saw what he was thinking. "That's a big risk." She told him in answer to his thought. "I can do it, I'm sure, but are you sure that's what you want?"

He was surer of this than anything else. It was a thought he'd entertained ever since Remy had first suggested consulting a telepath and it was the only one that made any sense now. "Please."

For a long moment Star just stared at him, her presence still inside his mind, and he figured she was probably trying to read him, to gauge his seriousness and sincerity. She must've found what she was looking for because she gave a small nod. "Okay, Spencer."

"Wait a second…" Remy held a hand out between them and his voice was just slightly sharp, a little on edge. "How about y' two share wit' de rest of de class. What's goin' on here?"

Star gave Spencer's hands a squeeze and she looked up at Remy. "If we don't do something, Spencer's powers won't kill him, but they might as well. They'll destroy his mind. Like I said, they're too strong for his shields and the more he tries to contain them, the more damage is done, making a cycle that won't end unless we do something. There are only a few options. We could find a way to dampen his powers, some kind of containment. Or there's option two, the one that Spencer wants: I'm going to go into his mind and create a mental wall around his powers, keeping them locked down inside of him. They'll still be there, but it'll be as if they aren't. He won't be able to use them, touch them, anything like that. All he'll see is the wall I put there to contain them. It'll allow his mind and shields a chance to heal form the damage done to them."

"I want this, Remy." Spencer interjected before Remy could form any kind of protest. He looked at the man who had become his savior, his friend, and he tried to put what he felt into words so that Remy would understand. "I can't keep doing this. It…it hurts, all the time. I can't live this way. I just can't."

The look on Remy's face was pained. He reached out and tucked a bit of Spencer's hair behind his ear, brushing his knuckles over his cheek as he did, and he murmured a few low words in French that Spencer didn't understand. Then, closing his eyes, he asked Star "Are dere any risks wit' dis? Is it safe?"

"I can't be sure, as I've never done this before, but it should be perfectly safe. If it's not, I'll stop what I'm doing, or I'll take it down. However…" She paused and her attention was on Spencer once more, her next words directed to him. "You might notice some changes. You're an empath, Spencer. By walling away your empathy, it could wall away some parts of you with it. I don't mean it'll take away your ability to feel or anything like that. You just probably won't show your emotions as strongly. You'd be…less emotionally expressive than the average person. You'll probably still feel them, you just won't express them like most do. I'm not entirely sure. That's just my guess. But you do need to understand that there's a good chance this wall will come down on its own. Or another telepath could tear their way in, if they worked hard enough and got past your initial shields. I can take it down one day, too, for you."

"Are y' sure y' wanna do dis?" Remy asked him. He leaned in close, pressing their foreheads together. "Are y' really sure? If not, dere aint no shame. We can look around and try to find somet'ing else."

But Spencer knew what he wanted. He didn't want something else. He wanted his powers pushed back; gone. All they'd brought him was pain. He didn't want to have to deal with them anymore. "I'm sure, Remy."

After that, things moved rather fast. Star had them go back to the bedroom and had Spencer lie on the bed. Then she sat beside him and put her fingers on his temples. "Close your eyes, Spencer, and just relax. Let me in, just like before." She murmured. Her presence reached out to him again and he let it in, just like before, letting the blue-grey light into his mind. "That's it. There we go. Now, just sleep. Sleep."

* * *

When Spencer finally drew up out of sleep, he felt the difference almost immediately. The constant battering at his mind that he had grown used to, the emotions of others around him pressing inwards, it was gone. All of it was gone. He tried to reach out with that part of him only to find that the part he always reached out with—wasn't there. It was gone. It was all, really gone. The sharper edge of pain was gone, too. There was still a dull headache that throbbed at his temples.

"Hey." Remy's warm voice sounded somewhere near his ear.

Spencer pulled out of his sleep a little more and took notice of the world around him. He was still lying on his bed, only he was on his side now and Remy was spooned up behind him, wrapping him in a hold of safety and comfort. About that time was when Spencer realized that it was dark in the room, not light like it had been. "Hey." He croaked back. His voice was dry and just a bit scratchy. "Wow…how long was I out?"

"Bout six hours." Came the astounding reply. "How y' feelin'?"

"Normal." Spencer said with a laugh. He snuggled back into Remy's embrace. "A bit of a headache, but otherwise I feel like I did before my powers manifested. I can't feel them at all."

He felt Remy's warm breath puff against the back of his neck. "Star said y'd probably have a headache. _Mais_ she also said dat everyt'ing went fine. She left a few hours ago an said to let y' know dat y' need to sleep."

"I can do that."

Indeed, he could. His body still felt exhausted, like he'd run a marathon. Spencer let his eyes drift closed and he sighed happily. For the first time in such a long time he was without serious pain. He wasn't feeling what others felt, wasn't seeing strange things, wasn't battling a headache that felt like it would split his head in two. He felt normal and it was absolutely wonderful.

Behind him, he didn't see the soft frown that his friend wore, nor could he feel his emotions anymore to know what was going on. If he'd still been able to, he wouldn't felt the turmoil in Remy's emotions. The worry that was still sitting in there. But Remy said nothing; just held Spencer close as he started to drift off to sleep ,and he let his thoughts wander. He thought about the things that Star had said before she'd left. "I've done what I can for him." She'd told Remy. "Now, he just needs to heal. But, Remy…"

"What?" He'd asked.

She had looked so sad then. "I don't know if he'll ever heal all the way from this. Whoever did this to him, they set out to cripple his mind. They wanted him hurt. The things done to his mind…I don't know if all of it can be healed. There's a chance that, if that wall ever comes down, he still might not be strong enough to hold out against his powers. I'm telling you because you need to be prepared for it. But I don't think you should tell him. If he thinks there's no hope, if he doubts himself and worries about it, it'll just impede his healing all the more. As it is, the damage could take _years_ to heal."

Remy felt Spencer sigh a little and he drew him in a bit closer. In the back of his mind, he promised himself that he'd keep an eye on Spencer and always, always be there to take care of him, no matter what happened. And if the day came that Spencer's walls came down once more and his mind wasn't healed enough to handle it, then Remy would be there for him again and they'd find their way through it. He wasn't going to let this destroy his friend.


End file.
